Nicholas x Danny

The first time Nicholas glances down at Danny’s mouth, licks his own lips, looks back up, smiles.

The first time Danny’s hand pats Nicholas on the back, between his shoulder blades, lingers there, strokes down, firm, before trailing off at the base of his spine.

The first time Nicholas laughs, leans in, bumps his shoulder against Danny’s, stays there a long moment, smiles into his beer when he goes to move away and Danny leans into him to keep the contact.

The first time Danny swipes his thumb against the corner of Nicholas’s mouth, steals the ice cream sitting there, licks it away from the digit, watches Nicholas watch him do it.

The first time Nicholas’s hand rests too high on Danny’s thigh, hears the intake of breath, feels the soft muscle jump, leans his weight on his hands as he pushes himself from the couch to get another beer.

The first time Danny finds himself watching Nicholas watch the DVD he’s put on for them, eyes darting down to Nicholas’s beer-slick mouth, the upturned curve of Nicholas’s nose, the incredulous raise of Nicholas’s eyebrows at the carnage on the screen.

The first time Nicholas runs the back of his fingers against Danny’s round cheek, lets them come to rest pressed lightly against the side of Danny’s face as the pad of his thumb catches a stray eyelash.

The first time Danny puts his hand to Nicholas’s waist, takes a step forward, pressed belly to belly, glances down at Nicholas’s mouth and back up to Nicholas’s wide blue-grey eyes, hesitates, nose to nose; smiles, relieved, when Nicholas closes the space between their lips.

These are the things that I need in my life.

He only sleeps in when he stays at Danny’s place.  He gets himself hopelessly knotted up in the blankets, and can’t force himself to leave, even well after the sun is up.

Well, Danny makes it difficult.  He never sleeps in when Nicholas is over.  He hates the idea of wasting their time together.  But if Nicholas sleeps, all is well.  Heaven knows how hard it is for him to close his eyes anywhere else.

Danny gets up, makes tea, picks out a few films for the day… if he can find the remote, he’ll put one on in the bedroom, with the tele muted.

He’ll sip tea and nibble on Jaffa Cakes and absentmindedly rub Nicholas’s back, through the covers.

Most mornings, Nicholas will wake up, rolling over to coax Danny’s gaze away from the television.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Danny tries to say.  Sometimes he only gets three words out, before:

“‘S’alright,” Nicholas always replies, eyes still shut.

karlimeaghan  asked:

I just wanted to tell you I adore your Hot Fuzz fics. I have read all of them more than once and I hope you write more in the future because they are soooo good. <3

First of all, thank you, and second of all, I’m pleased that you find they stand up to multiple readings!  Hot Fuzz is a very special film; it’s my go-to comfort movie when I’m feeling down.  It always, always cheers me up.  As for the possibility of more stories in future, I’d never rule that out.  My whims and writing cravings can be so unpredictable.

(For those just catching up, all of my Hot Fuzz content is now on AO3.  In fact, everything but the majority of my Sherlock and Good Omens stories are now uploaded there.  Those two fandoms are the final frontier, and what I really need is just a day with nothing else in order to complete the task of transferring the rest over from LJ.  Don’t worry, everything will remain posted on LJ as well!  Does anyone still prefer to read on LJ?)

Nicholas is unsure of how to come out to anyone at the station. May as well start at home, he decides.

He says it while Danny lays next to him, massaging his neck and leaning over his shoulder to listen.

“Okay,” Danny says, not even pausing.  Nicholas sits up and tugs at the blanket.


“Yeah, sure,” Danny continues, “Dunno if I’d do it with another bloke, neither.”

Nicholas presses his forehead down against both hands.

“It’s not like that… well, it is, actually… but it’s not that I don’t like you, Danny.”

“So you wanna talk about it some more?”

I don’t know what I was worried about, Nicholas thinks, meeting Danny’s waiting hands.

“Yeah,” his voice is firm, “I really would.”

For the first time in a long time, Nicholas accepts the cup of coffee Danny brings him, set gently on the bedside table.

“Cheers,” Danny says.  And they sit, and they talk.

Huge photo-dump time, because of reasons:

So, there was this anon last week who wanted to know if The Friendly Toast was a real place on account of having read my Pacific Rim fic.  I held off on answering because it just so happened that a friend’s birthday was last week (just before mine), and she chose that venue for drinks.  I have the appropriate seat/viewpoint in this shot, as well as a display of the quirky bar-top, part of the cute bartender (yes, the actual one, but I’m too polite to show his face), and, in fact, the cocktail Tendo is drinking when they hit it up during the press tour:

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What you need to know about this place is that it’s part weird quirky hipster cocktail bar, part gastro-diner, and 100% nuts as far as the decorating is concerned.  I’m not kidding about the creepy mannequin over in the lounge part (far to my/Newt’s/the camera’s right).

augustbird said: wait is this the one in kendall square? i’ve been meaning to hit it up for ages but the one time i went for brunch it was packed as hell

Yep, the very one!  This is why I only tend to go there in the evening.

And, last, but not least, I came home to a mammoth parcel of fandom joy from sheerpoetry7 today.  I’m not sure how she crammed in so many things I love so fiercely; my retaliatory package this year is going to have to be extra on-top-of-things, as you can see:

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